


Something Fixed, Something New

by takethembystorm



Series: Tea Break [50]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Dorks, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethembystorm/pseuds/takethembystorm
Summary: Adrien—quite by accident—finds out about Marinette’s side job as a seamstress.  Things snowball rather quickly from there.





	Something Fixed, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [miraculousturtle](miraculousturtle.tumblr.com) for the original prompt, and to miraculousturtle, [gigiree](gigiree.tumblr.com), and [clairelutra](clairelutra.tumblr.com) for helping me with this.

“Adrien,” Nathalie says, her tone patient and level, “you have three of these shirts.  Your father knows the brand’s main designer, and we had a business lunch with the brand’s owner last Wednesday.  There is no practical reason why we cannot simply get you another shirt.”

Adrien clutches the shirt, its sleeve hanging limply from a few threads, to his chest, his eyes wide and watery, his lower lip protruding.

“But it’s my favorite shirt,” Adrien says.

Nathalie blinks at him.  "You have,“ she says, "two other shirts that are exactly like that one.  How can you even tell the difference between them?”

“This one has a bent collar,” Adrien says, pointing to the spot.

Nathalie just manages to keep herself from throwing her hands up in frustration.  "Okay,“ she says.  "Just pack it up in a bag or something, I’ll get your driver and find a local tailor’s shop.”

Adrien’s expression flares into a brilliant, happy grin.  He catches Nathalie around the waist with a quick hug before he runs off, shouting a quick “thank you!” over his shoulder.

Nathalie takes in a deep breath and heaves it out in a sigh.  The Agreste men were ridiculous.

* * *

“Sir?  Yes sir.  I’ll get on that immediately, sir.”  Nathalie hangs up and pinches the bridge of her nose while Adrien looks on curiously.

“Nathalie?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“What was that?”

“Your father,” she says. “He wants to make some changes to the plan for Tuesday’s event.”

She glances up as the Gorilla pulls into a streetside parking spot, stopping the engine and engaging the parking brake with a racheting sound.

“You’d better go in by yourself,” she says.  "Your father wants this done immediately.  Don’t take too long.“

"Yes, Nathalie,” Adrien says. He pops open the door and scurries out of the car and into the shop.

Adrien hears a bell make a tiny, desultory clatter as the door swings shut behind him.  He looks around at—a narrow, small little shop filled almost wall-to-wall with racks and clothing maybe three or four decades out of style, most of it threadbare, but in good condition, all of them covered in clear protective plastic.  Some have little paper tags with indecipherable scribbles on them; probably order numbers and other such things.  Rough industrial carpeting scrapes against his shoes as he takes a step forward.

At the end of the room is a particleboard counter, the wood warped and peeling away in one corner.  Behind that is a wall with a curtain door.

“Hello?” Adrien calls. The walls of cloth drink up the noise.

He just barely manages to suppress a shudder.  This place may have been the closest to the house, but holy crap was it claustrophobic; just the leaden sound of his own breathing in here was starting to be a little panic-inducing.  Best to get this over with.

He walks smartly to the abandoned counter and looks around.  A rapid but dull _thk-thk-thk-thk_ from the back indicates that the shop isn’t wholly empty of life, but it otherwise might’ve been a mausoleum.  He shivers.

“Hello?” Adrien calls again.

The _thk-thk-thk-thk_ doesn’t pause.  Adrien upgrades to a shout, and while the sound pauses briefly, still no one comes.

He looks around the counter and spies a silver bell; he hammers on it, producing a loud _DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING_ that apparently gets through to whoever is working in the back.  The noise stops.  Someone says something, the words indistinct but probably something on the riff of “go see who that is”.

Someone replies, the voice higher-pitched and almost ramrod straight with helpful perkiness.  “Right away, mumblemumblemumble” or something.

And, a second later, Marinette comes through the curtain door with a professional customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, sir, how may I help you—“

Her expression freezes as she sees Adrien, who after a moment’s contemplation decides on a sheepish wave of greeting.

“Hey, Mari—“

Marinette reaches forward, her expression still frozen in shock and panic, grabs him by the shirt, and bodily hauls him over the counter.  He lands in a heap next to her.

“Holy _crap_ ,” he coughs as Marinette hunkers down next to him, her hands over her mouth.

“—oh shit I just assaulted Adrien Agreste—“ Marinette babbles.

“How are you that _strong?_  You can’t weigh more than what, forty-five, fifty kilos soaking wet.”

“—I’m going to jail for the rest of my life and they’re never going to let me see Mama or Papa or Alya or my sewing machine again—“

“Like, cheese and crackers you picked me up like I was nothing.”

“—and then they’re going to charge me with high treason—“

“Uh, Marinette?  Mari?  You okay?”

Marinette refocuses on him.  “Oh no.  Ohnoohnoohno.  Are you okay I am so sorry I didn’t mean to do that—“

“It’s fine, I’m okay,” Adrien says, sitting upright.  “To tell the truth that was pretty awesome.”

Marinette brightens, almost literally. “You think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Adrien says. “Like, that was some action movie stuff right there.  If the Gorilla ever retires and I need a new bodyguard I’ll be sure to recommend you to my father.”

“Maybe take a raincheck on that?” Marinette says, smiling hesitantly.

“Sure.”  Adrien stands slowly, wincing slightly.  “I take it you work here?”

“Oh, yeah,” Marinette says, springing to her feet.  “Part-time.  The material I wanted was starting to get a little expensive, so Mama and Papa said that I was going to need to start paying for it myself, and there was an opening here, and well, here I am.”

“Why don’t you do commissions?” Adrien says.  “I know there are a lot of seamstresses who make a pretty penny off of cosplayers and people like that, uh, not that I’d have any experience with that—“

“You don’t have to lie about that, I saw you at Comic Con last year,” Marinette says with an absent air as she strokes her chin thoughtfully.  “Cosplayers, huh?  I’ve never really thought about that but that might work.”  She comes back to the present.  “Anyways, what were you here for?”

“Oh, right.”  Adrien looks around him, then leans back over the counter and fishes for his bag.  “I got my sleeve caught and nearly tore it off.  I was hoping to get it repaired.”

Marinette purses her lips in thought as Adrien hands her the shirt, studying it with a professional eye. “Yeah, that shouldn’t be too much trouble.  Don’t you have a dozen of these shirts, though, I see you wearing them all the time.”

“This one’s my favorite.”

Marinette considers this for a second, then shrugs.  “All right, sure.  It’s too late in the day for our same-day service, but it’ll be done by tomorrow morning when we open for sure.”

“Excellent,” Adrien says.  “How much?”

“Nine-ninety-nine,” Marinette says.

Adrien pulls a pair of five-euro notes from his wallet and hands them to Marinette.  “Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem,” Marinette replies, “it’s my job.”

“Still,” Adrien says, giving her a smile that she returns, “thank you.”

Marinette lets him out from behind the counter.  “So, see you at school tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he says.

“Oh,” Marinette says, her expression flickering to one of horror, “ _please_ don’t tell anyone I work here, especially Chloe, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Wait,” Adrien says, gesturing to the counter, “was that why you pulled me over like that?  ‘cause you thought I’d tell her?”

“That was mostly the panic, honestly,” Marinette says.  “My brain just kinda, uh, locked up and decided that was a good option.”  Her thumb goes to her mouth, and her teeth find her thumbnail and chew as she looks down at their feet.

“Well it was a pretty awesome option,” Adrien says.

Marinette’s eyes flick up towards his, and she smiles slightly.  “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” he says.  “Hey, if Chat Noir ever decides to quit the superhero business, maybe you could be Ladybug’s next sidekick.”

“Partner,” Marinette says, her features petrifying, her gaze suddenly flinty.  “Her partner.”

“Right, my bad,” Adrien says, “you’d be her partner, of course.”

The door creaks open.  Nathalie leans in, glances around, fastens her gaze on Adrien, says “Hurry up, we need to go,” and leaves.  The bell clatters noisily.

“Coming, Nathalie,” Adrien calls. He sighs and turns to Marinette. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then?”

“Sure,” Marinette says.

Adrien waves goodbye to her as he leaves and gets into the car.

“When will it be ready to pick up?” Nathalie says as the Gorilla shuts the door behind Adrien and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Tomorrow morning, they said,” Adrien says.

“You have school and piano,” Nathalie says.  The car pulls away from the curb and merges smoothly into traffic.  “I’ll send your driver around to pick it up.”

“Thanks, Nathalie.”

* * *

Adrien shuffles tiredly into his room and collapses face-down onto his bed.

So today had been more exhausting than anticipated.  Exceedingly so.  But at least he’d be able to rest, relax, get some proper sleep—wait, fuck, they had that test on Friday that he had to study for, and patrol with his Lady later.

He groans and rolls onto his back, and hears the crinkling rustle of crushed plastic.

He frowns, sits up, and looks behind him.

His _shirt_ , of course, the Gorilla had, well, Nathalie had said that she would send the Gorilla around to pick it up this morning.  Adrien picks it up and tears off the plastic, holding his shirt up to the light for inspection.

Good as new.  And it smells as though Marinette had had it laundered, too, which was a nice touch—

A bakery.

A black panther.

His Lady.

The memory flashes through his skull like a lightning bolt, bright and unavoidable and too fast for reaction outside of an after-the-fact flinch.

His Lady.

Marinette.  The smell, hers, exactly like—

His _Lady._

Holy _fuck._

He finds himself breathing in the vaguely floral scent again, his shirt pressed up against his face, and quickly puts it down.  Okay, so Marinette’s superhero—he wants to laugh, how appropriate was that, _his Lady_ —moves with that whole “drag him over the counter” thing under the effects of brainlock were a little more understandable now.

His smile freezes.  Wait.  Shit.

She was going to be furious with him, they’d promised to not reveal their identities after all.  But he _had_ to—

Wait.

What if he—

* * *

Nathalie tries to keep the corner of her eye from twitching.

“This is the third shirt you’ve torn or otherwise damaged in a week,” she says.  “What is with you?”

“Bad luck?” Adrien suggests.

“Really.”  She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.  “You know, if you’re just doing this to see that girl in the shop there are easier ways of going about this.”

“No I’m not.”

Nathalie raises an eyebrow at him.  Adrien contrives to look as innocent as he can, and mostly gets just to around “innocent as a cat who’d just been witnessed knocking a vase off of a high counter“.

“Very well, I’ll fetch your driver,” Nathalie says.

“No need, I’ll walk, it’s not far,” Adrien says quickly.

“You will walk with your driver,” Nathalies says.  “I am already getting questions about your sudden and unexplained expenses, and I will not have you gallivanting off someplace without being able to tell your father exactly where you are and with whom.”

To Adrien’s suddenly crestfallen expression she adds, “he’ll just be outside.”

“Oh, all right, Nathalie,” Adrien says.

“And if I were you,” she says as he turns to leave, “I would come up with a better excuse than ‘my clothes need repair’.  Maybe say—yes, maybe say that you are collecting old clothing to donate to charity, and that you want them repaired first.”

Adrien considers this for a minute, his head cocked to the side.  That,” he says slowly, “is an amazing idea.  Thank you, Nathalie!  Oh, wait—“ he pauses in mid-run “—do you know any good charities that I could donate them to?”

“I’ll compile a list,” Nathalie says.  “Your driver will meet you at the front door.”

“Okay,” Adrien says. “Thank you again, Nathalie!”

Nathalie tries to keep from smiling as Adrien resumes his sprint and mostly succeeds.

The Agreste men really were ridiculous.

* * *

“—and then he started coming in with all these old clothes and after a while I asked him what was going on why was he bringing in all this stuff especially since most of this doesn’t fit and y’know some of them are women’s clothes not that I’d judge him if he wore women’s clothes I bet he’d look fantastic but anyways he said that he wanted me to repair them so that he could donate them to charity and he’s honestly such a wonderful person and—“

Alya, with her chin resting on the heel of her palm, nods absently at appropriate moments as Marinette whispers excitedly to her, wondering about two things.  First, when and how Marinette had gotten an apparently infinite lung capacity?  Second, why did Adrien’s ears seem to be edging towards the point where they might accidentally set fire to his hair?

A third question joins the gathering throng when Adrien abruptly stands, grabs Marinette’s hand, and with a hasty apology directed towards Alya and Nino, drags her out of the room.

“Marinette,” Adrien says as he finds an empty classroom and takes them both inside.  “Look, I’m sorry, but I need to confess a couple things.  I haven’t been entirely honest with you, and I’m not as good a person as you think I am.”

“Adrien?” Marinette says, her eyes wide.

“First, I’m not entirely doing this for charity,” he says.  I’ve also been doing it so that I could see you at work, because you’re smart and funny and really cool, and because you’re good company, and because I think you’re really skilled and passionate and I think that’s amazing.”

Marinette, steadily heading towards spontaneous combustion herself, manages only a steady “uhhhhhhhh”.

“Second, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”  Adrien takes a deep breath and places his hands on Marinette’s shoulders.  “I know that you’re Ladybug.”

Marinette stops breathing.

“I know that you’re Ladybug because and I get that this is going to sound super creepy so please don’t judo flip me into a desk or break my arms or anything but when you gave me back my shirt it smelled like you and then I realized that it smelled exactly like when we were hiding out in your parents’ bakery back when Alya’s dad got turned into a supervillain.”

“I,” Marinette says weakly, “I brought it home and laundered it there.  We only do dry-cleaning at the shop and you didn’t order the dry-cleaning service.”

She blinks and regains a little composure, then promptly loses it again.  “Wait, we?  Wait, you know what I _smell_ like?”

“It’s nice,” Adrien says quickly, “you smell nice and uh, I said we because I happen to be—” well it wasn’t as though he hadn’t swan-dived right across that line about five sentences ago “—I’m Chat Noir.  And I know you said that we shouldn’t reveal our identities but I’m sorry but I’d already figured yours out and it just didn’t seem fair and also you just kept saying all this nice stuff about me and I didn’t know how to react and now that I think about it this may have been a little bit of an overreaction.”

Marinette stares at him blankly.

“Um, Marinette?”

“You’re my Chat?” she asks quietly.

Something sticks fast in Adrien’s throat at that; he manages a nod.

Marinette catches him in a tight hug that Adrien, after a stunned second, returns.

“I’m glad it’s you,“ she says quietly.

“So—” Adrien stops and swallows the lump in his throat “—so am I.”


End file.
